


The man in the moon

by Cubes_and_Destiny



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemon Touching, Episode tag Apollo, F/M, Finally, Fluff, Getting Together, Season 6 episode 2, it had to be done, just after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cubes_and_Destiny/pseuds/Cubes_and_Destiny
Summary: This evening: Joan watched a man walk on the moon, rescued two children with Morse and saw her mother’s fury at her father wane.Perhaps this means nothing is impossible anymore.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	The man in the moon

**Author's Note:**

> Have not seen season 7 yet and first fic in a long time. Wrote this last year after first watching Apollo and then finally got back around to editing it. 
> 
> Thanks to proof readers and sorry for any lingering mistakes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :D
> 
> 17/08/2020 - Had a moment to tidy a few typos and things finally. Nothing new here but yikes I have some other writing I need to finish. Keep on keeping on everyone X

This evening: Joan watched a man walk on the moon, rescued two children with Morse and saw her mother’s fury at her father wane. At least she thinks that last one is true.

When her mother found out about the money and her father lying she’d shut down. Utter silence had formed between her parents. Settling into a cold and frosty attitude that had been lingering for weeks.

Except – except as she was leaving her parents home Joan had seen the behaviour of their daemons. The distance between her parents on the sofa tonight might as well have the trek to the moon. Their daemons had been a little different.

Seamus, the pygmy monkey, had not hidden beneath her mum’s hair up on her shoulder. Instead he had sat on a favoured cushion on the floor to better see the screen. Barbara, her father’s badger daemon, had then proceeded to inch closer throughout the evening until they were eventually lying together.

Pondering this, Joan asks her daemon Archie if he noticed.

“Why do you think I was on your lap for most of the evening?” He says instead of answering. Twisting his long graceful neck up to look at her.

She shifts his weight slightly under her arm before answering, “I thought you were excited about the moon landing.”

“I was! It can be for both reasons!”

It seems like significant progress. It is hard for Joan to imagine her parents permanently estranged. No matter how vast a distance that’s required for them to correct. Perhaps she’s just being naïve and hopeful.

“They won’t be the same Joanie. Even if they do get past this.”

“I think they will you know. Get past this I mean – I - they matter so much to each other and what they’ve built and done together.”

“They have to want to keep doing it though.”

That’s a point she can’t really argue with. They continue on in silence for awhile. A fully-grown pheasant is a bit much to carry but Archie enjoys it and Joan won’t deny him. He can walk and fly but his flight is often in frantic bursts more suited to running than to strolling home. He’s always been a bird, always been something that could dart around.

She recalls her mother smiling when Archie settled as a pheasant. She had then settled in to tell Joan stories of their maternal grandmother, who had a much more remote life.

“They’re the best example of fight or flight.” She’d told them. “They’d take on foxes given the right circumstances and are constantly watchful. You’re following your dad’s example Joanie.”

Archie had settled when Joan was 12, fairly early compared to the other children she knew. It had given her a sense of surety and assumed maturity. She was learning that life wasn’t quite so easy to navigate as she’d assumed.

Joan and Archie had agreed they’d done enough running. She’s fighting now, fighting to make her way and her own life, it feels good and exhausting.

Thoughts of the job turn to earlier this evening and that leads without interruption to thoughts of Morse. Their goodbyes were certainly better than their interaction the other day, which makes her sigh aloud. Thinking on Morse is like wobbling a loose tooth: painful and impossible to resist without conscious effort. They’ve been doing whatever it is their doing now for a long time.

“Hobby indeed,” she hisses under her breath.

Archie hears and starts squirming to be released.

“What’s wrong?” Joan asks as she puts him down.

“Morse is a prick.”

She huffs out a laugh, which is closely followed by a sigh.

“Yes, he is.” He’s more than that but he can definitely be a prick.

“I miss her though,” Archie confesses as they resume walking home. Joan knows that he’s referring to Morse’s porcupine daemon, Love. Morse's first name, however, remained a mystery. It feels like a clear reflection of how much better Love and Archie got on than Joan and Morse.

When Morse had said 'Marry Me', Love had chosen that moment to reveal her name to Archie. The memory wanders through her mind. It was a kind thing to offer to a desperate and pitiful woman. Joan hadn’t wanted to warrant such an offer, not like that. Not from Morse.

She arrives at her flat and finding her keys allows her a moment of short distraction to focus her thoughts. She’s not that girl anymore.

“Joan, maybe you could be friends.”

“What?”

“You and Morse. Maybe you could actually be friends?” Joan isn’t surprised that Archie is starting this conversation. The words ‘they’re just friends’ had ruffled his feathers. Could they manage to be actual friends? With prickly Morse and Love? Joan sighs and uses the excuse of moving inside to avoid offering any answer.

Lights on, door closed and coat hung up Archie promptly pecks at her knee.

“Archie!” She hisses.

“You haven’t -”

“I’m not sure I want to be friends!” she declares.

It’s the wrong thing to say to a creature that’s all fight or flight. His tail feathers rise up, as do the small ones recently grown in around his head. His wing tips come down, his shoulders up and chest sticks out. All puffed up and brimming with energy Joan thinks he’s beautiful.

She also has absolutely no idea how to stop this argument without waking up her housemate. Helen has an earlier start than Joan for her work as a clerk. They haven’t lived together long but a woman with Helen’s kindness; keen budget fashion choices, numerous workingwomen friendships and desire for independence make her friendship incredibly important to Joan. They’ve managed to make sharing a small two bedroom flat comfortable; Joan really doesn’t want to start upsetting that any time soon.

“No you don’t want to be friends with him.”

“Archie-“ She tries, they need to shut this down and go to sleep.

“You have wanted to kiss him since you first saw him. And not in a way that friends do. You want to stare into his beautiful blue eyes for the rest of your -”

“Archie! Keep your voice down Helen -”

“You WANT to wrap yourself around his wiry frame. You WANT to run your hands across Love’s stomach and watch Morse’s reaction whilst you do. You WANT him to say he loves you BEFORE he asks you to marry him.”

Archie continues on a roll despite any further protests from her, “YOU WANT HIM TO SAY HE LOVES YOU SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY IT FIRST.”

It’s true. There’s a lot more to the situation but that is true.

It hits Joan in the stomach and Archie seems to realise quite how far he’s gone. Realise how at odds with each other they are. His feathers deflate slightly as Helen's bedroom door opens. She's dressed for bed and her tabby cat daemon Kathryn slinks forward fur ruffled.

“Joan? Archie? What – who on earth are you yelling about?”

Chastened Archie hides himself behind Joan’s legs. Joan apologies to Helen for them, “Did we wake you?”

“Yes but it sounds like something’s happened. An ex-lover?”

“An ex-nothing. Nothing ever happened.”

“I wish something had,” Archie mumbles. Kathryn pads towards Archie, leaning in to nuzzle him. Helen comes to places her hand on Joan’s shoulder.

“It was all such a mess. It’s got to the point where I couldn’t see how I could fix any of it,” Joan confesses. The relief is immediate; she’s never really talked about Morse. Never known how to start talking about it.

The ‘it’ is vast now. The distance between her and Morse might as well be the distance to the moon. The soft expression in Helen’s face makes it easier than she expects to keep going. Not for the first time Joan is reminded how kind Helen is.

“I couldn’t fix things so I decided to move on. Or I’ve been trying, it seems like I can’t untangle everything either. And I’m not sure I could walk back that –any of it back. If – I mean I don’t even know if I want to. He’s been such a prick recently.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want too. But then again if you want too you can just go and tell him that.” Straight forward Helen advice.

The words “Is that offer for coffee still open,” floats through her mind. She’s been trying so hard and he’d just turned up. Asking something he should have asked ages ago. It had felt a little to late at the time. Although since she’s still thinking about it maybe that’s not true.

“So much has happened. It would be so difficult.”

“A bit like going to the moon?” Helen teases brightly at her.

Joan guff’s at the comment, “Yeah something like that.”

“So not impossible,” Archie says hopefully.

* * *

Joan had given herself 24 hours to sleep on her decision. She doesn’t want to rush anything. There’s a bit of weight to this situation now. Holding herself back from an action is not something she’s used too. Perhaps that was the problem with Morse? She’d been uncertain and then too hesitant, not her normal self, and perhaps he’d been exactly himself.

Or perhaps he’d simply not really been interested. Although that seems unlikely given – well everything. “This is going to be difficult to sort out”, she thinks to herself. But she now works in welfare and a man walked on the moon. Joan Thursday can talk to a man about their relationship.

Or lack of one and how they could possibly alter that. She’s not seen Morse since he’d dropped her off after that last case. She can’t talk to him at the station of course and then a conversation with Strange reveals his group living situation. Which rules out going over to him. Fantastic.

Helen then informs her about being away for the weekend, starting Friday evening, visiting a close female friend in London. Leaving Joan and Archie with the apartment. Helen winks as she informs Joan of this. Archie wishes them a lovely weekend and Kathryn responds, “Thank you. I hope yours is as well.”

Joan spends all of Thursday desperately hoping she’ll run into Morse. It doesn’t happen. Archie and her work their nerves up to head out Friday to the station.

Luck has it that they bump into each other at lunch instead. The relief and mutual anxiety Joan feels is a heavy emotional cocktail.

“Morse.”

“Joan,” he does manage a small hesitant smile at her. It’s something.

“Are you free this evening?”

The wary expression she gets is expected. She keeps her face as neutral as she can manage when it turns out he’s available.

Love is watching Archie, who is practically vibrating with barely concealed energy. They don’t say anything to each other. They’ve both been a bit wary since the fight in her office. Archie had puffed up and almost charged Love, despite how stupid such a move would have been to do to a porcupine.

Voice as light as she can manage Joan continues, “Could you come over to mine? There’s something I want to discuss.”

He doesn't say no, but frowns at her as she and Archie stand before their silent considered gaze. No matter the feelings in her stomach she's going to stand her ground - if they ask her to elaborate, she'll say they can talk about it this evening. She won't be intimidated into breaking her silence, and neither will Archie.

“Alright, what time?”

* * *

“You can’t run away from your own flat,” Archie informs her. He’s no better than she is though. After she’d changed her dress and taken to pacing back and forth bare foot across her living room he’d joined in.

“I’m not going to run away. I look too good to run away,” she informs her daemon. Her tone is teasing but the both of them can’t manage to keep still. And she hadn’t been able to decide on shoes when normally they never bothered in this flat.

Joan is sure she’s going slightly mad. That she should burn the lot of it and get on with the moving on she’d previously planned. Then she hears the bell. Joan opens the door to her flat and there is Morse.

It’s such a familiar routine that for a moment her nerves drop away. She can work with this and she smiles at him. The slightly guarded expression of his drops away.

“Hello, come inside. You can hang up your coat here.”

“Sure. Thank you Joan.” He says her name now.

The few moments of getting the two of them inside allows her to swallow the lump in her throat. She offers him a seat and a drink, both of which he declines. Him and Love instead stand just in front of the window. They look so lovely here, with the sunshine upon them.

The warmth Joan feels in this moment helps her bravery and her decision.

“What did you want to talk about? Is there something wrong?”

There was a time he would have blustered through this, Joan thinks. Love and him would both fidget. There’s a certain kind of peace that he seems to get better at finding now. Archie nudges her leg, a strong and vibrant presence at her side.

Joan takes a deep breath and says, “I want to talk about us.”

Wariness appears to descend on him immediately. No surprise though. She glances again at Love who’s standing between them. Joan looks for signs that she’s losing them to guardedness. Love meets her gaze evenly and her spikes stay down.

Her pause gives Morse the chance to say, “I think we’ve said everything we need to too each other don’t you?”

It feels like a jab and the words bubble up promptly, “Not yet. At least I haven’t. I – Could we really be friends Morse?”

She’s practiced these words, she may have stumbled but she’s going to get back on track, “We will see each other while I’m working for the Welfare. Also you’ve always been important to Dad. We have struggled with getting on properly for a lot of reasons and I think it would be good if we tried.”

“Joan-,” Morse tries. She can’t let him continue before she’s finished.

“When you asked me out for coffee it had seemed too little to late. We’ve gone back and forth a lot and I think we’ve built this into something it doesn’t have to be. We can’t go back either and I don’t want too. I – a lot has happened Morse. To me and us. I’m never going to go back to being that girl who had a crush on you when she first opened the door- ”

“Joan. You already turned me down.”

The finality in his voice almost hurts her. He moves as if to leave and she reaches out to grasp his arm. He can’t leave yet.

“Yes and that was a mistake. I’m not sure Archie and I can get over this – you and Love.” It’s not the most positive spin on something she could have given. Morse is clearly pulling away. She doesn’t dare look at Love.

“We can’t keep doing this Joan.” It’s a shut down and surely the beginnings of a rejection, probably the final one. The bottom of her stomach drops out…

Her thoughts are halted in their spiral by a sudden searing pain in her leg and ankle. She screams and leaps up onto her other non-injured leg.

Luckily Morse’s arm comes up around her to stop the fall. She buries her head into his shoulder.

“Ouch,” she thinks. This isn’t how she’d hoped to wind up in his embrace tonight. All her weight is on Morse.

“Fuck Joan I’m so sorry.”

The aching in her ankle and lower leg doesn’t detract her attention completely from his arms. The one wrapped around her shoulder and the other around her lower back. It’s a rather heady combination especially considering the high emotion of a moment ago.

It takes her awhile to realign her thoughts and actually respond to all the cursing that seems to be happening between Morse and the daemons. She tries to shift and look at her leg without putting weight on it. There are three quills sticking out of her, one clearly in her ankle and the other two just above.

Love has apparently been attempting to stop Archie from pulling them out himself.

“That was so stupid,” Archie hisses gaze alternating between Morse and Love.

“We – I can get them out. They’re not poisonous. I just need some tweezers and some scissors,” Morse reassures her. 

“I didn’t mean to do it Joan. I’m so sorry.”

“You better be sorry! You always curl up and you can’t – how are we supposed to -”

“You ran away,” Love snaps back.

“Love! Archie! Just stop arguing. Joan needs to sit down and then we can deal with this. Put your arms around my neck. I’ll help you to the sofa.”

Once stretched out on the sofa, Joan directs Morse to where he can find the tweezers and scissors he needs.

Joan goes to flex her leg and Love exclaims, “Wait, you mustn’t move your ankle if you can avoid it. Just stretch out your leg. Then Endeavour can look-”

“Endeavour?” Archie interrupts as he settles himself up on the arm of the sofa opposite Joan. He shakes his long tail feathers so they brush up against Love’s side. It’s a taunt. Love rises to the bait and gives an impatient tug on the end of them.

“Well this is a night of firsts,” Joan thinks.

“What was that for?” Archie hisses.

“You keep interrupting me.”

Collapsing back against the armrest Joan ignores the two daemons as Morse returns. He thrusts something alcoholic into her hands.

“Drink this. It’ll help with the pain. I can get them out and clean this easily enough.” His manner is brisk and he’s shooing the daemons out of the way before sitting on the floor in front of her in order to examine her leg. The quills are long and a glorious black and yellow.

“Should have warn tights,” Joan mutters to herself. There’s no blood as far as she can see. This is not a context in which she can enjoy his careful attention.

“This’ll be straightforward,” Morse, actually Endeavour apparently, reassures her. Joan wonders how she only knows his name now.

“I would finish that though. I’m going to cut the quills and them pull them out. It’ll sting.”

“What if I jerk?” She asks warily and then downs the glass. The question goes unanswered as Morse snips the quills to shorten them. Passing the ends to Love who deposits them onto the coffee table.

Joan doesn’t press and once his task is complete Endeavour pauses, leaning back to glance at her whilst tugging on his ear.

“Let me remove one. After that we can see. We might be able to secure your leg down or something similar if we have too.”

Archie squawks as Joan bursts out into a high pitch laugh. “Sorry – sorry. Not how I expected this evening to go that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” Love whispers softly near her elbow. This is the closest she’s ever been. Joan could read out and stroke Love’s soft face. Her quills are all bent back now. There’s only one way to stroke a porcupine.

“It’s ok.” She tells Love as she stares into her clear black eyes.

The first quill comes out fairly painlessly. She does jerk with the second one.

Love, who can move about to a degree on her hind legs and use her front paws to gather things, presents Joan with the bottle of what Endeavour poured her earlier. Joan takes a swig whilst Endeavour watches her. Allowing her a moment to breathe.

“It’s not ok you know.” Archie declares into the silence.

“Archie,” Joan snaps, she doesn’t want him to encourage Love to curl up again. She’s in pain and possibility a little intoxicated. Endeavour isn’t looking her and is focused on holding her leg still. What Joan does next is not a conscious decision.

She puts her hand on Love’s head.

Endeavour inhales sharply.

All four of them freeze.

Joan is stunned and so doesn’t remove her hand immediately. Which is enough time for Love to shift back and nuzzle into her palm.

“I didn’t want to be a part of the conversation anymore. Endeavour and you were starting to argue. We’re always saying goodbye. I feel we barely said hello before we had to say goodbye.” She rubs her snout back and forth again.

Archie squawks before finding his voice, “Hello.”

There’s a smattering of chuckles following the statement.

No one seems to want to break the silence after that.

Daemon touching is – well everyone knows it’s personal. Intimate. Used to be forbidden and then heavily frowned upon before the war. Joan’s only touched her families’ daemons for comfort and greeting. Light affectionate touching of close family. Mum has stroked Archie’s head when they’ve been ill.

This though, this isn’t like that.

This strays closer to the other kind of daemon touching, the kind done between lovers. They haven’t even kissed yet.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time,” Joan confesses. Love responds by pressing closer, right up to the sofa by Joan’s side. She’s so soft.

Joan dumps the bottle on the floor and uses both her hands to stroke her head, under her chin, her face. She’s filled with a desire to press her face into the soft parts of Love. Request if she can stroke her stomach and then carefully stroke her spines.

Joan is about to start trying to negotiate Love up onto the sofa with her when Endeavour snaps Joan’s name. He looks breathless. His expression is intent and the wide blow of his pupils is gloriously appealing.

Joan feels like she could crawl into lap right now. She’s fully aware that sleeping together would solve – well only some things. She wants it though.

The rather sharp pain in her leg abruptly derails all her thoughts. There’s still one quill in her leg.

“Ouch.”

“Yes, can I finish without distraction?” Joan settles back down and takes her hands away.

Love stays very close.

Morse clears his throat.

“I’m offering comfort.” Love replies without looking at him.

“I’m trying to finish this.”

“I’ll stroke you again once he’s finished,” Joan promises. She looks at Morse as she says it though. The start of a blush is beginning to spread across his face.

“Do you want me not too?” She watches him swallow. Right now she rather likes the moustache maybe he should keep it. Morse seems to be struggling with embarrassment and exasperation in front of her and it is delightful.

“I need to get this last quill out of your leg.” His eyes are beautiful. No one should have such lovely blue eyes.

“I’ll keep still.” Joan says. Though now neither of them can quite seem to break eye contact.

There have been moments like this before. When clearly the next thing to do is kiss. To give into a moment that’s bubbling away. Isn’t that also a typical problem with them? Always watching other.

“You’re always watching me. I got tired of waiting. Then I was so angry. I wanted you to tell me you loved me first. It’s just that we were never really on the same page together. I’m not angry anymore,” Joan confesses.

“I am,” Archie mutters.

“Joan,” it’s wonderful that he’s been calling her Joan she thinks.

“Joan,” he tries again, “I have never been the type of person – I am not good at -” He sighs and shakes his head before gesturing once more to her leg. That still has a quill in it. Joan nods and says nothing, not wanting to disturb him any further.

She rests her head back against the arm of the sofa. She feels quite worn out all of sudden; there have been far too many feelings for one evening as far as she’s concerned. Archie nuzzles into the side of her face. Warm and soothing she loves the soft feel of his feathers against her skin.

The last quill is gone with only a tiny bit of pain.

“Love’s quills are sterile, she's always managing to stab us, so you shouldn’t get an infection, especially as I’m cleaning it right now. Check it tomorrow though and get medical help if it starts to swell ok?”

“Ok,” she mutters. She doesn’t know if she’s fixed anything. She’s so tired and this has been so difficult. Has she been clear enough? Gained any distance on this trip to the moon?

“The moon?” Love asks, from down by her elbow as Endeavour turns to look at her. Joan stares down at Love, who gazes back patiently waiting right by her side, clearly fearful of moving forward and causing accidental injury again.

Oh, Joan thinks, I’m such an idiot. With a sudden burst of energy Joan gets down onto the floor to join Love and as promised buries her fingers into the soft black fur of her upper body.

“It’s silly,” she explains as Love melts into the floor beneath her touch,”I was thinking about how a man has now walked on the moon. It’s such a long distance and I thought – well it’s like us isn’t it? A lot of distance and I – I don’t want it to keep going the way it is.”

“I had made plans for our first coffee date,” Endeavour confesses. Joan keeps stroking Love and allows Endeavour space to keep talking. She almost feels giddy – like she’s coaxing feelings from him.

Endeavour swallows and then, “I was going to bring you flowers. We’d walk along the river bed and I was thinking -”

“About kissing,” Love interrupts, “I’d like that.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Joan says, feeling like she’s speaking for everyone. She’s looking at Endeavour as she speaks though and can’t helping thinking how beautiful he looks when he smiles like that.

“We are free tomorrow,” Archie declares and then he stares intently at Endeavour awaiting the reply.

“Tomorrow then.”

Love twists her body around so that she can lie upon her back. Joan takes the suggestion and begins to stroke her stomach. The warm sense of contentment and satisfaction settles upon Joan like a blanket.

Endeavour and Archie watch them both for awhile loose limbed against the sofa. Can you become absorbed in looking? Joan wonders. She feels like she could stay here for hours.

So of course as she’s thinking this he says, “We should go soon. It’s - ”

“You can stay for dinner. Not the night though. I mean.”

“I think that might be a little to soon yes.” They smile at each other again.

“I’ll throw something together. I’ll never have mum’s skill for cooking though,” Joan admits.

“That makes two of us then. We can share if you like?”

Joan couldn’t tell you why that was the moment but then she had to kiss him. Archie moves towards Love and she clambers into Endeavour’s lap. Snogging each other senseless on her floor is not how she planned this night to go either but it is very good.

Joan feels incredibly in the moment, aware of his hand at the back of her neck and the other on her hip. Her hands are framing his face as she greedily kisses him. His moustache tickles her lips and she can’t say she minds.

They have to break apart eventually to breathe. Though Joan revels in the satisfaction of resting her forehead against his whilst they do. The next sets of kisses are sloppier. Endeavour apologies as they bump noses. She can’t help the giggle that bursts up inside of her.

That proves more of a hindrance to further kissing. It takes her a few moments to calm down from it. Though she stays in Endeavours lap.

“Ok Joan?” He asks, eyes gleaming.

“Yes, yes – about time Endeavour.”


End file.
